"Just one spadeful more!" cried the miser. And stooping low, with his tool in his hand, over the hole made by his incessant labour, the poor wretch's senses failed him; he swooned, and fell into a self-made grave! The loose earth fell in from the sides and covered the wealthy fool!
The basket-makers who chanced to come in the morning gathered up the heaps of silver and gold which were found near the spot, beneath which lay the corpse of him who had purchased them with his life.
[CHAPTER VII.]
The Three "Bihistis."
"I AM afraid that your miser has many prototypes in real life," observed Percival, when I paused. "Many a man has sold his life for gold."
"And his soul also," said Lady Mar. "How few realize the depth of truth contained in the lines:"
"'The greatest evil we can fear
Is—to possess our portion here!'"
After a little more conversation on the subject, Lady Mar was called upon for her story, which she thus began:
"I suppose that I need hardly preface my little tale by telling you what bihistis are—Oriental water-carriers, bending beneath the weight of their mushaks (skins filled with water): these have been made so familiar by pictures, even to those who have never been, like myself, in India."